Alright, I’m going to be brutally honest. Before I became a parent of a special needs child, people with disabilities made me feel uncomfortable. For example, if I saw a mentally handicapped person in an elevator, I might wait for the next one. It wasn’t out of revulsion, but some kind of inexplicable fear. What was I afraid of? At the time, I wasn’t entirely sure.
Inexplicable Fears
I remember when an old friend from high school met my son Kyle. At the time, I believe he was seven or eight, and I explained to my friend that he was autistic. Kyle stood quietly beside us while my friend and I chatted. Then suddenly Kyle made a noise. It wasn’t loud or even particularly unusual, but I observed my friend spring backwards as if frightened. There was no good reason for that reaction except for her preconceived notions about disabled people. I remained stoically silent, but my insides went limp. Not only did I feel profound disappointment in my friend’s behavior, but I was ashamed to admit I saw my former self in her actions. And it saddened me that now there was clearly a great divide between us. I wasn’t a person like that anymore. How could I be?
Erroneous Assumptions
People sometimes assume that children become disabled through flawed genetics, poor or absent prenatal care, a mother who drank or abused drugs during pregnancy, child abuse, or neglect. There is definitely some societal disdain for the handicapped because of these negative associations. But the fact is that any mother or father can become the parent of a disabled child in the blink of an eye. Jean Ellison became the mother of a quadriplegic when her daughter, Brooke, was struck by a car on the first day of seventh grade. Suddenly things Jean had never thought much about, like wheelchairs, hydraulic lifts, and ventilators, became integrated into her daily life.
Any parents of children who travel in vehicles, ride bikes, climb trees, play sports, or live on this planet could suddenly find themselves raising a special-needs child. And some babies are born with physical or neurological problems when their mothers were physically fit, properly nourished, came from great genetic stock, never took drugs, and had a delivery without complications. I have known parents who raised healthy children, but in later years found themselves in the role of caregivers for a special-needs-child when one of their grandchildren was born with challenges.
A Change in Attitude
We need to squelch whatever fear, discomfort, uneasiness, disrespect, or need for avoidance we might feel toward disabled persons, and do it immediately. Perhaps the real issue is the insecurity we feel, being humans who are imperfect and subject to accident and illness. Deep down, when we see a handicapped individual, perhaps we cringe at our own vulnerability. The disabled person is an unpleasant reminder of our own helplessness in a random world. There, but for the grace of God, go I.
A change in attitude just takes a little practice. Push the fear away. Be cordial. Offer assistance without being patronizing. Be sensitive to the needs of others. Don’t avert your eyes, and don’t gawk. Accept.
Intolerance for Intolerance
How can we stand back and allow the intolerance of disabled people in any form? How can we not rise up and protect and defend those with challenges and limitations? How can we not give our full support to programs that provide opportunities for the disabled? How can we permit the abortion of unborn children simply because they are determined to be genetically imperfect?
How can we not smile at a disabled person in an elevator and say “Hello?”
If we foster a world of fear and intolerance, then let us not complain when we find ourselves someday sitting in the wheelchair, or holding the disabled grandchild, looking out helplessly at our unkind reality.